𝕜𝕚𝕪𝕠✰

꧁𝐒𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫꧂ 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ★ ༻𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦༺

[k1yooo]

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝘼𝙇𝙋𝙃𝘼𝘽𝙀𝙏 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙆𝙔𝙊𝙅𝙐𝙍𝙊 𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙊𝙆𝙐

𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜 | +𝟭𝟴

AFTERCARE ➪ Extremely affectionate and warm. He holds you close, praises you loudly (“You did so well!”), brings water, wipes you down, and keeps talking softly until you’re settled. He falls asleep with you tucked against his chest.

BODY PART ➪
His: his chest and abs


Yours: your thighs and the curve of your waist. He loves gripping them.

CUM ➪ He cums hard and a lot. Prefers finishing on your stomach or thighs so he can see it, then rubs it in with a satisfied grin. Inside is fine too.

DIRTY SECRET ➪ He has fantasized about taking you right after a mission while still in his uniform, haori half-off, the smell of smoke and sweat still on him.

EXPERIENCE ➪ He knows exactly what he’s doing, reads your body well, and is confident without being arrogant. He learns what you like fast and never forgets.

FAVOURITE POSITION ➪ Missionary with your legs over his shoulders so he can go deep and watch your face the whole time. Also loves you riding him so he can grip your hips and thrust up hard.

GOOFY ➪ He laughs, talks, and makes playful comments. Not crude, but warm and teasing. Something like; “Look at you, taking me so well!”

HAIR ➪ Well-groomed. Thick, fiery hair stays somewhat neat even during sex. Carpet matches; but its a darker auburn that is kept tidy. He likes things clean and presentable.

INTIMACY ➪ He makes constant eye contact, kisses you often, and keeps saying your name. Even when it’s rough, it feels affectionate and connected. He wants you to feel desired.

JACK OFF ➪ He’d rather save it for you. When he does, it’s quick strokes in the bath or right after training, usually thinking about your sounds.

KINK ➪ Praising you the entire time. Manhandling (picking you up, pinning you easily). Light biting on your shoulders and neck. Having you wear his haori afterward.

LOCATION ➪ Anywhere he can be loud without worrying too much. His room, an open window with the night air, against a wall after sparring. He likes places that feel alive.

MOTIVATION ➪ Your smile, the way you say his name, the scent of your skin after a long day. Seeing you trust him completely.

NO ➪ Anything that hurts you for real or makes you cry from fear. Humiliation is a hard no. He also won’t do anything that feels cold or detached.

ORAL ➪ Loves both. Giving is enthusiastic, he goes at it with the same intensity he does everything, humming and gripping/biting your thighs. Receiving makes him loud and restless; he has a hard time staying still.

PACE ➪ Starts passionate and builds fast. Can be rough and deep once he’s worked up, but always checks in. He likes a strong, steady rhythm that makes the bed creak.

QUICKIE ➪ He’s game. Will absolutely pull you into a side room or behind a building if the need hits. Still somehow manages to make it intense and affectionate even when it’s fast.

RISK ➪ Higher than average. He’s open to trying new things as long as you’re safe and into it. Public risk is limited, he doesn’t want anyone else hearing or seeing you.

STAMINA ➪ Excellent. Can go multiple rounds without much recovery time. His endurance from constant training shows. Lasts long when he wants to, or finishes hard and is ready again soon.

TOYS ➪ Doesn’t own any and doesn’t seek them out. If you introduce something simple he’ll try it with enthusiasm, but he prefers using his hands, mouth, and body.

UNFAIR ➪ He can tease, but it’s never mean. Slow, deep thrusts while holding you still, or stopping right when you’re close just to kiss you and grin. He likes watching you get needy.

VOLUME ➪ Loud. Deep groans, praise, your name, the occasional sharp “Yes!” He doesn’t hold back.

WILD CARD ➪ Afterward he sometimes carries you to the bath himself, still talking softly about how perfect you felt, completely unselfconscious about being naked and happy.

X-RAY ➪ 7.5 inches. Thick, heavy, with a strong upward curve. Prominent veins when hard, darker flushed head. Clean and well-kept.

YEARNING ➪ He has a strong sex drive and doesn’t hide it once you’re together.

ZZZ ➪ He stays awake longer than you, stroking your hair and talking quietly until you drift off. Then he falls asleep fast, still wrapped around you.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 🝮

[k1yooo]

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝘼𝙇𝙋𝙃𝘼𝘽𝙀𝙏 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙂𝙄𝙔𝙐𝙐 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙊𝙆𝘼

MDNI | +18

AFTERCARE ➪ He doesn’t say much, but he cleans you up carefully, pulls the blanket over you, and stays close without crowding you. He checks that you’re okay with a low “hm” and a hand resting on your back until you fall asleep.

BODY PART ➪

His: his hands and forearms (scarred, strong, precise).


Yours: your neck and the soft spot under your jaw. He likes having his mouth there.

CUM ➪ He prefers finishing inside when possible. He’s not messy about it, but he likes to watch it drip out of you.

DIRTY SECRET ➪ He has jerked off thinking about you while on missions more times than he’d ever admit.

EXPERIENCE ➪ Not a virgin, but not highly experienced either. He knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t have a long list of formee partners. He learns fast and remembers exactly what made you react.

FAVOURITE POSITION ➪ You on your back, one of his hands pinning your wrist, the other under your thigh so he can go deep. Or you on top so he can watch your face while barely moving.

GOOFY ➪ Almost never. He’s serious and focused in bed.

HAIR ➪ Neat. He keeps everything trimmed and clean. Carpet matches the drapes. He doesn’t like anything that feels unkempt on himself.

INTIMACY ➪ Surprisingly intense for someone so closed-off. He doesn’t fill the silence with words, but the way he looks at you and the way his hands stay on you say everything.

JACK OFF ➪ Rare, he does it usually in the bath or right after training when the tension is high. He slowly strokes it while his head is tipped back against the wall.

KINK ➪ Restraint (his hands or a simple rope). Marking,especially leaving faint bruises or bites where only he will see them. Being the one fully in control while still paying close attention to your reactions.

LOCATION ➪ Somewhere private and quiet. His room at the Water Estate, a secluded hot spring at night, or against a tree deep in the woods if you're traveling. He doesn’t like the risk of being interrupted.

MOTIVATION ➪ Your scent after a long day. The sound of your breathing changing. Seeing you trust him enough to go soft under his hands.

NO ➪ Anything that involves an audience or real danger to you. He also doesn’t do humiliation or anything that feels degrading. He shuts that down immediately.

ORAL ➪ Gives more than he receives at first. He’s thorough and focused when he’s between your legs, he just wants you to feel good from his tongue. Receiving makes him quieter and more tense; he doesn’t last long once you get him going.

PACE ➪ Starts slow and controlled, then gets deeper and harder once he’s sure you’re with him. He can switch between almost gentle and rough without warning when the need hits.

QUICKIE ➪ He’ll do them if the opportunity is there and privacy is solid, but he prefers having time.

RISK ➪ Low. He’s cautious by nature. Experimenting is fine if it’s just the two of you and he can control the variables. Public risk or anything that could get you hurt is a hard no.

STAMINA ➪ High. He can go more than one round easily and lasts a long time when he wants to.

TOYS ➪ Doesn’t own any and doesn’t seek them out. If you bring something simple he’ll use it on you without complaint, but he’s more interested in his hands and mouth.

UNFAIR ➪ He can be relentless when it comes to teasing. Slow fingers and keeping you right on the edge while his face stays mostly neutral. He likes watching you get frustrated.

VOLUME ➪ Very quiet. Low breaths, the occasional rough exhale or quiet groan when he’s close. He bites down on sounds more often than not. You’re usually the louder one and he doesn’t mind.

WILD CARD ➪ Sometimes after sex, when you’re half-asleep, he’ll stay wide awake just tracing the lines of your body with one finger like he’s memorizing them. He never comments on it.

X-RAY ➪ 7 inches. Thick and has a slight upward curve. Clean-shaven base, prominent veins when hard, heavier in the hand than it looks. Darker at the head.

YEARNING ➪ Higher than anyone expects. He goes long stretches without intimacy, then the need hits hard and stays.

Zzz ➪ He doesn’t fall asleep first. He stays awake until he’s sure you’re comfortable and settled, then sleeps lightly with one arm still near you.

[k1yooo]

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝘼𝙇𝙋𝙃𝘼𝘽𝙀𝙏 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙎𝘼𝙉𝙀𝙈𝙄 𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙕𝙐𝙂𝘼𝙒𝘼

MDNI | +18

AFTERCARE - Sanemi is surprisingly solid at aftercare once the high fades. He’s rough during, but afterward he’ll clean you up, toss a shirt over you, and stay close, grumbling the whole time while making sure you’re not hurt. He’ll hold you if you need it, but expects the same back; he’s not great at soft words, so it’s mostly actions and quiet presence.

BODY PART -

His own: the scars across his chest and arms. He’s hyper-aware of them and gets a dark satisfaction when someone touches them without flinching.

Yours: thighs and neck. He loves the way your thighs squeeze around him and the way your pulse jumps under his mouth when he bites.

CUM - He likes marking. Prefers finishing on skin (stomach, chest, thighs) more than inside at first, then watching it drip. When he does finish inside, he’s possessive about it and doesn’t pull out right away. He’s messy and unapologetic about it.

DIRTY SECRET - He has a thing for being called “Hashira” or “Shinazugawa-san” in bed when he’s already deep in it, something about the formality mixed with the filth gets under his skin harder than pure dirty talk. He’ll never admit it out loud.

EXPERIENCE - Highly experienced. Years of one-night stands and rough encounters mean he knows exactly what he’s doing. Technique is solid, stamina is better, and he can read a body fast. Emotional intimacy is the part he’s still clumsy with.

FAV POSITION - Missionary with your legs over his shoulders or pinned under him so he can watch your face, and doggy when he wants to go harder and hold your hips. Anything that lets him control the depth and angle.

GOOFY - Not really. He’s intense and focused. Dry, sharp comments or a low smirk when you make a noise he likes, but actual humor is rare mid-act. Afterwards he might tease you about how loud you were.

HAIR - Neatly groomed down there. The white hair on his head stays wild no matter what. Carpet mostly matches the drapes.

INTIMACY - He’s better at physical intensity than soft romance during sex. Eye contact is intense when he allows it; otherwise he buries his face in your neck. The real intimacy shows in the way he stays after and the rare, quiet “you’re mine” that slips out.

JERK OFF - Does it when he’s stressed or after a hard mission. Usually in the bath or late at night. Sometimes he thinks about a specific person and ends up lasting longer than he meant to.

KINK - Marking/biting (leaving bruises and hickeys), light breath play, restraint (him holding you down), and a strong praise kink mixed with degradation. He likes being told he’s good at it almost as much as he likes calling you filthy things.

LOCATION - His room at the corps barracks (door locked), outdoors after a mission when the adrenaline is still high, against a wall, or anywhere private enough that he can still hear if someone approaches. Public risk turns him on more than he’ll admit.

MOTIVATION - Fighting and surviving first. After that: the smell of your skin, the sound of your breath hitching, seeing you marked by him, and the rare moments you push back or challenge him. Blood and danger still amp him up.

NO - Anything that involves real harm, non-consent, or using his past trauma as a weapon in bed. He also shuts down hard if you try to baby him or treat him like he’s fragile.

ORAL - Excellent at giving. He is focused, thorough, a little mean with teeth and suction. Prefers receiving when he’s already worked up; he’ll grip your hair and guide without being cruel about it. He likes the control either way.

PACE - Starts rough and fast more often than not, especially if he’s been wound tight. Can slow down into something heavier and deeper if the mood hits, but “gentle” is not his default setting.

QUICKIE - Loves them. He’s good at making a five-minute wall fuck feel like it counted. Does them often when time or privacy is limited.

RISK - Yes. He’s game for trying new things as long as it doesn’t cross his hard lines. Public almost-getting-caught situations, new positions, light pain play. Hes more experimental than he looks.

STAMINA - Very high. Can go multiple rounds if he’s in the mood, and his recovery time is short. First round is usually the fastest and roughest; later ones get more controlled and last a little longer.

TOYS - Owns very little. Might use simple restraints or a blindfold if the mood strikes, but he prefers his hands, mouth, and body. Toys on a partner are fine if you bring them; he doesn’t reach for them first.

UNFAIR - Extremely. He teases until you’re shaking. He likes watching you get desperate almost as much as the actual sex.

VOLUME - Low and rough. Growls, curses under his breath, the occasional sharp “fuck” when it feels especially good. He gets louder when he’s close or when you do something that surprises him. Prefers you loud so he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

WILD CARD - He has a soft spot for morning sex when you’re still half-asleep and warm. It’s one of the few times he’s noticeably gentler, and he’ll stay wrapped around you longer afterward than he normally allows.

X - RAY - Lean, heavily scarred muscle. Thick cock, average-to-above length, heavy. Veiny, flushed dark when hard. He’s not shy about it once clothes are off, he knows what he’s working with.

YEARNING - High sex drive, especially after combat or stress. He doesn’t always act on it (discipline and trauma get in the way), but when he does, it’s intense. Needs regular release or he gets even more irritable than usual.

Zzz - Doesn’t pass out immediately. Stays awake long enough to clean up and make sure you’re okay, then drops hard with an arm over you or you half on his chest. Sleeps deeply once he’s out.

[k1yooo]

🌪️Sanemi x reader - part 3🌪️

Warnings: angst, argument, protective Sanemi, emotional vulnerability, confession, rough edges with soft center, language

Word count: ~4.8k

When The Wind Won’t Let Go

⸻

By the end of the week, you could walk again.

The healers insisted you take it slow, that your ribs weren’t ready for strain, but the stillness had been gnawing at you for days. Every Slayer knew the restlessness of recovery: the itch in your bones, the way silence pressed like suffocation, the clawing guilt of being idle while others fought.

You told yourself you’d only test your balance. Just stretch your legs, maybe lift your sword for the first time since the battle. A few motions. Nothing more.

But the moment you wrapped your fingers around the hilt, the door slammed open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His voice was a whipcrack.

Sanemi filled the doorway like a storm cloud, jaw clenched, storm-grey eyes cutting into you. His presence alone made the room feel smaller, tighter, the air heavy with a pressure you couldn’t name.

Your heart lurched, but you forced yourself to stand straighter. “I just need to move. I can’t stay in bed forever, Sanemi.”

He stalked forward, each step sharp, deliberate, like a blade about to strike. “Move? You barely survived last time. You’re still coughing blood if you breathe too deep. And you think I’m gonna let you swing that sword around like nothing happened?”

You bristled, clutching the hilt tighter. “I’m not helpless. If I sit around doing nothing, I’ll fall behind—”

His hand shot out, smacking the sword clean out of your grasp. The clang of steel against wood echoed like thunder between you.

“Don’t you dare say that!” His chest heaved, voice raw, spit sharp in the air. “You’re not falling behind—you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

You flinched, not at the volume, but at the crack in his voice. The way his eyes weren’t just furious—they were terrified.

“Sanemi…” you began softly.

“Don’t,” he snapped, turning his face away as though even looking at you hurt. His fists clenched, trembling at his sides. He sucked in a ragged breath through his teeth before whipping back toward you, gaze burning. “You don’t get it. You go back out there like this, you’re dead. And I…” His words caught, choking off in his throat. “I can’t—”

His voice broke. He slammed a fist against the wall, wood splintering under the force. The sound made you jolt, but his shoulders only hunched forward, as if the violence was the only thing holding him upright.

“I can’t watch you bleed out in front of me again,” he ground out, low and guttural.

The silence after hit heavier than any shout.

You stared at him, chest tight. You’d seen Sanemi angry before—hell, it was his default—but this wasn’t just anger. This was desperation, grief, fear so sharp it cut him raw.

Slowly, you whispered, “I don’t have a choice, Sanemi. None of us do. We’re Hashiras.”

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide, lips curling in a snarl that trembled around the edges. “Bullshit. Don’t you dare feed me Corps duty like that. This isn’t about them. This is about you.”

Your throat closed, the air heavy as his words struck.

He stepped closer, voice dropping into something harsh and uneven. “Do you think I sleep at night? Do you think I don’t see it—your blood all over me, your breath stuttering, your hand going cold in mine? I’ve lost too much already. You think I can lose you too?”

Your heart cracked at the rawness in him.

Sanemi, who spit venom at the world. Sanemi, who laughed in the face of pain. Sanemi, who carried scars no one else could bear. He was trembling. Because of you.

“Sanemi…”

But his momentum didn’t stop. He was unraveling, words pouring out like jagged shards.

“You’re reckless. You’d throw yourself at a demon twice your size without thinking. You’d bleed yourself dry for someone else. And I—” His jaw clenched, his chest heaving. “I can’t stand it. Every time you walk out that door, I feel like it’s the last time I’ll ever see you again.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came.

His hand shot out again—not rough this time, but desperate. He grabbed your wrist, then slid down until his scarred fingers tangled with yours. His grip was bruising, shaking, like he was terrified you’d vanish if he loosened even a fraction.

“I’m begging you,” he rasped, voice breaking in a way you’d never heard. “Don’t make me go through that again.”

The storm between you roared, but in his eyes, you saw it: not just fear, but something deeper, something raw and unspoken that had been clawing its way out of him for too long.

Your own eyes burned. You lifted your free hand, cupping his scarred cheek. He flinched—but this time, he didn’t pull away.

“Sanemi,” you whispered. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened, wet and glimmering. “I’ll try anyway.”

The air trembled, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

And then, like a blade finally breaking under pressure, the words ripped out of him.

“Because I—” He choked, shaking his head violently. “I can’t—I love you, damn it! I’ve loved you this whole time!”

The world stilled.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, storm incarnate, had just laid himself bare. His chest heaved, his eyes wide and terrified, his hands still clinging to you like lifelines. He looked like a man braced for the killing blow, like confessing had left him defenseless.

Your vision blurred with tears. “Sanemi…”

He shook his head, almost frantic. “I know I don’t deserve you. I know I’m fucked up and mean and I—” His breath stuttered, harsh and uneven. “But I can’t lose you. Not you.”

The sob broke free before you could stop it. You pressed your forehead against his, closing the tiny space between you.

“You think I’d let you go through all this alone?” you whispered, voice shaking. “You think I’d fight beside anyone else? Sanemi, I love you too.”

He froze.

His breath caught, his storm-grey eyes going wide as if he couldn’t comprehend the words. Then, slowly, he exhaled—a trembling, shattering sound.

And suddenly, his hands were everywhere. Cupping your face, gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer like he couldn’t believe you were real. His forehead pressed against yours so hard it almost hurt, his voice breaking against your skin.

“You stupid, reckless idiot,” he muttered, though the words shook with relief. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Don’t you dare.”

You laughed through your tears, broken but alive. “Then don’t let go.”

His lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, trembling, tasting of salt and fear and something sweeter than you ever thought Sanemi Shinazugawa capable of. His hands shook as they cradled your face, as if he was terrified you’d disappear mid-breath.

And in that kiss, in his uneven breath and shaking grip, was a vow stronger than any oath the Corps could demand.

That no matter the blood, the demons, the endless war—Sanemi would never let you go.

⸻

💚 A/N: I’m not crying you guys are :’) that concludes our mini series of Sanemi x reader. Hope you guys enjoyed it :) let me know if u wanna see other one shots / mini series ( I take requests 🫶)

[k1yooo]

gang, I sorta NEED that part 2, I'm dying.

(also rest up and drink a lotta water <3)

For you guys who are THIRSTY - here’s part 2 :3

🌪️sanemi x reader - part 2🌪️

Warnings: aftermath of injury, blood mention, protective Sanemi, emotional vulnerability, soft fluff buried under angst

Word count: ~4.1K

Three Days

⸻

The first thing you felt was the ache.

Your chest burned, your ribs protested every breath, and your body felt like it had been dragged through hell itself. But you were alive. The sharp scent of antiseptic told you as much.

You forced your eyes open, vision swimming against the pale light filtering through the shoji doors. The futon beneath you was warm, the bandages snug around your ribs. Every inch of you was sore, but it was the heavy weight against your side that kept you grounded.

When you turned your head, you found him.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, slayer of countless demons, Wind Hashira feared across the Corps—slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head bowed against the edge of the mattress. His hand was wrapped around yours, knuckles pale from how tightly he gripped it, as if letting go meant you’d vanish.

His shoulders were tense even in sleep. His brows furrowed, jaw clenched, breath uneven. A storm bottled up in human form.

Your throat felt dry, but somehow the words slipped out anyway. “Sanemi…”

His head snapped up instantly, wild eyes meeting yours. Relief hit him so hard it almost broke him in half—though he masked it with a sharp scowl.

“You’re awake.” His voice was rough, scraped raw from sleepless hours. He didn’t let go of your hand. If anything, his grip tightened. “About damn time.”

You tried to smile, but it faltered. “How long…?”

“Three days.” His tone was clipped, like every second had been branded into him. “Three days of you lying there, not moving, not saying a damn word. Thought I was gonna—” He cut himself off, jaw locking, his gaze darting away.

You caught it though. The crack in his voice. The way his throat worked like he was swallowing something sharp.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His eyes snapped back to you, storm-grey and furious. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for nearly dying in my arms.” His words hit hard, rough around the edges, but underneath was something rawer. “You think I can survive losing you? You think I’d—” His breath stuttered. “I can’t go through that again.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Your heart ached—not from the wound, but from the sight of him. Sanemi, who bore scars deeper than anyone could count, who braved every demon without hesitation, was trembling because of you.

With what little strength you had, you squeezed his hand. “I’m still here.”

His shoulders shook, just once, before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. His hair brushed your skin, his grip iron-clad as if tethering you to this world.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he muttered, voice breaking on the edges. “Or I swear I’ll drag you back myself and never let you out of my sight.”

You wanted to laugh, to tease him, but the weight of his words kept you quiet. Instead, you let your fingers curl weakly around his, anchoring him as much as he anchored you.

For a long time, he stayed like that—head bowed, hand gripping yours like a lifeline, his storm finally finding its eye. And in the quiet, for the first time in days, Sanemi allowed himself to breathe.

⸻

The hours after waking blurred together. The Kakushi had rushed in when they heard movement, tending to your wounds again, replacing the bandages with fresh ones. Their hands were careful, precise. You barely noticed them.

Because Sanemi never left.

Even when they asked him to step aside, he refused, a snarl curling on his lips until they gave up. His hand never let go of yours. You could feel the tension thrumming through him like a coiled spring, his jaw locked so tight you thought he’d grind his teeth to dust.

The moment the Kakushi left, the room grew quiet again.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Instantly, his eyes were on you, sharp and worried.

“Don’t move.” His voice was harsh, but his hand was gentle as it pressed against your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m not glass, Sanemi,” you rasped, though the way your chest ached betrayed you.

His eyes narrowed, storm-grey and unreadable. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked like you were about to—” He cut himself off, shaking his head violently as if banishing the thought. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not lifting a damn finger until you’re healed. Got it?”

You wanted to argue, to tell him you weren’t helpless. But the raw fear in his voice silenced you.

So you nodded.

That seemed to ease him—slightly. He sank back into the chair, though he didn’t release your hand.

Minutes passed like that. The air heavy, your breaths shallow, his grip unyielding. And then, quietly, you spoke.

“You stayed.”

His jaw tightened. “Of course I stayed.”

“Sanemi…”

His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and warning. But you pressed anyway. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

He didn’t answer. But the exhaustion carved into his face said enough. The shadows under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the way his shoulders sagged as if he’d been carrying the world and refused to set it down.

“I’m fine now,” you whispered, though the lie tasted bitter. “You should rest.”

“I’ll rest when I know you’re not gonna slip away the second I close my eyes.” His voice was a low growl, rough and broken.

Your chest tightened, but not from the wound.

Sanemi, who trusted no one, who let no one close, was holding onto you like you were the last anchor keeping him from being swept away.

“Sanemi,” you said softly, “look at me.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, his eyes met yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, the storm in him cracked. His breath shuddered, his eyes glistened. He looked at you like you were something he didn’t believe he deserved—something fragile, precious, terrifying to hold.

And when his head bowed again, pressing against your hand, his voice was hoarse, almost pleading.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

You wanted to tell him you meant it. That you’d claw your way back to him no matter what. But the exhaustion pulled at you, heavy and unrelenting. Your eyes slipped shut again, the world dimming at the edges.

This time, though, his grip on your hand kept you tethered.

And even in the darkness, you could still feel him—storm-grey eyes watching over you, rough palms anchoring you, his breath uneven as he kept vigil by your side.

For three more days, he didn’t leave. Not once.

And when you finally stood again, shaky but alive, Sanemi was still there—closer than your own shadow, ready to fight the world if it meant keeping you breathing.

⸻

🩶A/N: You asked and you all shall receive. Let me know if yall want a part three < maybe in the next part there could be a post recovery argument and a cheeky confession > :) MWAHAHAHA feeding you all with some angsty fluff teehee. Hope you lovelies enjoyed 🫶

[k1yooo]

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🌪️ Sanemi x Reader — part one 🌪️

Warnings: heavy angst, blood/injury, language, vulnerable Sanemi.

Word count: ~4.5k

Stay With Me

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You knew you’d gone too far the moment your knees buckled.

The world swam in shades of red and black—your own blood painting the soil, the last remnants of the demon crumbling at your feet. Your blade clattered uselessly to the ground. Every breath was a war, shallow and ragged, your chest screaming with pain.

It shouldn’t have ended like this. Not here. Not in the middle of nowhere, alone.

But before the dark swallowed you whole, the wind shifted—sharp, howling, alive. And then he was there.

“(Y/N)!”

Sanemi’s voice cut through the haze, furious and broken all at once. He all but tore the battlefield apart to reach you, his blade still dripping as the demon’s head fell. He didn’t even look at the kill—his eyes were only on you.

You tried to lift your head, but the pain was a weight too heavy. Still, you saw the panic in him. The way his lips pulled back like a wounded animal, his entire body trembling as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“You reckless—stupid—” His words splintered, catching in his throat. His hands hovered for a second, as if he didn’t know where to touch you without breaking you further. Finally, he pressed down on the wound at your side, his calloused palm slick with blood.

Your blood.

The sight of Sanemi Shinazugawa—Wind Hashira, storm incarnate, the man who spat in the face of demons and gods alike—was enough to undo you. Because beneath all that rage, his eyes were wide with something far rarer. Fear.

“You can’t—” his voice cracked, low and raw. “You can’t do this to me. You hear me? Don’t you dare fucking leave.”

Your lips trembled, trying to form words, but only a broken gasp came out. The metallic taste of blood coated your tongue. His jaw clenched, teeth bared as if sheer fury could keep you alive.

“Why didn’t you wait for backup?!” His shout rattled the trees, violent in its grief. “Do you have a death wish? Do you even—” He choked, and for a moment the storm in him faltered. “Do you even care what happens to me?”

That was what broke you.

Because Sanemi wasn’t asking as the Hashira, or the soldier, or the hardened man who bled without complaint. He was asking as Sanemi—the boy who had lost too much, carried too much, and still somehow had room left in him to care about you.

Summoning what little strength you had left, you lifted a trembling hand. His eyes widened when your fingers brushed his cheek, smearing his skin with red. For once, he didn’t flinch away.

“Sanemi…” Your voice was barely a breath, but his entire body jerked at the sound.

His eyes were glassy now, wild and desperate. He pressed harder against your wound, his own hands slick with blood and shaking violently. “Don’t talk like that. Save your strength. I’m getting you out of here. You’re not—” His voice cracked, a sharp, guttural sound that hurt to hear. “You’re not dying on me.”

You wanted to tell him he was loud. That he was always too loud. That his voice was the only thing keeping you tethered when the dark tried to pull you under. But your body betrayed you, weak and heavy, your eyelids dragging shut despite your will.

“Stay with me!” His roar split the air, and suddenly you were in his arms, lifted against his chest like something precious. You could feel the rapid hammer of his heartbeat, faster than any battle drum, frantic as he ran.

Branches tore at his skin, the earth blurred beneath his steps, but he never slowed. His breath came ragged, choked with rage and terror, his grip on you iron-tight.

You had never seen him like this. Not Sanemi Shinazugawa—the man who faced death with a grin, who spat blood and laughed at the gods.

This was Sanemi stripped bare, desperate and pleading, his storm raging not against demons but against the thought of losing you.

“Don’t you close your eyes. Don’t you dare.” His words were ragged, spilling out between gasps as if he could will them into your lungs. “You stay awake, you hear me? You’re mine to protect. I’m not letting you go. I won’t—I fucking won’t.”

The last thing you felt before the darkness won was his grip tightening, his voice breaking on your name, calling you back like a prayer he’d never admit to speaking.

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🩶 A/N: I’m not okay. If you want a part 2 (hospital/recovery + protective Sanemi refusing to leave your side), let ya girl know